Me With You
by shouldbstudying
Summary: Will's thoughts after the holiday and perhaps... the changing of his mind.
1. Chapter 1

I watched her stumble out of the airport with her bright yellow luggage and felt myself stiffen. I wouldn't have agreed to the holiday if I realised it was part of a plan to convince me out of _my_ plans. She probably just said she loved me, probably just kissed me, to convince me out of it. Nathan laid an arm on my shoulder and I looked up at him. His face was grim as he watched Louisa leave. My mother ran after and all I could think was _leave her. She deserves to find happiness._

Nathan wheeled me to the car and lifted my bags beside me.

"Thanks," I called to him. "For this... holiday."

Nathan turned to look at me in the corner of my eye and I felt him do something that resembled a scoff.

"It's not me you should be thanking mate." Nathan left. My parents were a mess when they finally arrived at the car - I couldn't imagine what had possibly happened to change the mood so quickly but my mother looked as if she was a corpse, her face blotchy and white while my father looked tense and uneasy.

"So... dinner?" I asked, trying to break the mood. My father looked at me with grief written across his face and looked to his wife who collected herself, her face blank and her voice monotone.

"Whatever you say Will."

The dinner was awkward - my mother was silent and my father's questions were too quick to keep a comfortable conversation. My mother busied herself in several glasses of wine until the point her face sagged with drunken relief. She had to be practically carried out of the restaurant. I sighed after I was left in my bed. What a beautiful holiday, to get to see Louisa so happy and adventerous and... loving. I closed my eyes but inevitable thoughts of my carer fell under my eyelids. I could still feel her legs entwined with mine as we shared a bed, her hand holding mine tightly. I could still feel her touching my face, still feel her lips on mine. The last time I would see her, it would be the back of her head. And the last time I saw her face would be when she'd met my eyes and I felt the weight of a tonne of bricks falling on my shoulders. Grief, guilt, anger, betrayal, even a little judgement was there.

I had only a few days left until my appointment at Dignitas. A few days left of the guilt of leaving my strange carer here. I felt my stomach twist in all sorts of knots.

The days felt like years. Without Lou there to keep me company, which I learnt, she had handed in her notice at the airport, the days stretched. Nathan had to stay with me all day to assist in feedings but I felt that even him, my friend, was angry at me for the way I'd treated Louisa. I was on my computer two days before the date of my death when I found a link on quadriplegic support groups that had already been clicked. I read through the various forum posts of questions - how can I have sex with my quad boyfriend? How can I comfort my UT employee? Where can I take my C4/5 SCI quadriplegic for a holiday?

This link had also been pressed, the text in purple lettering. I clicked it and read the question and the answers and realised, without doubt, that this was Louisa. "Busy Bee," half way through the post had commented saying she needed ideas for less physically straining activities as the man she was taking care of was recovering from illness. "Ritchie" commented with his email and some information about Mauritius and the beautiful beaches and staff who were trained to help out with disabled people... And I knew. It was my Louisa.

I pressed onto her name where her profile picture was a little bee, similar to the tattoo in it's shape and position. Her other posts were labelled beneath her name and slowly, almost carefully, I opened them. I felt like I was prying into the personal life of Louisa Clark - these were things she'd hidden from me, had never even told me about. These were her only hopes, I had realised. There were a few questions she had asked - how to help someone feel good, where to take them (me) on holiday, how and most recently, how to stop someone from killing themselves.

Answers littered the forum, telling her it wasn't her right to decide. She didn't know what it was like, they said. You can't tell someone not to kill themselves.

Other answers were polite and suggested that he - I - needed some love in his life. A puppy, a fish, a girlfriend. I grimaced at the idea of Lou bringing me a puppy, probably a fluffy little thing knowing Lou. The poor thing wouldn't know what to do with itself while I was in my chair. I noted the date of the post - just yesterday. She was still hoping, still pleading.

The same "Ritchie" from before commented again: _Thinking of you at this time Bee. x_

I wanted to cry also, as I read Lou's comments throughout the months.

"He's happier today! I no longer feel like he hates me."

"The clock is ticking and I just can't get him to leave the house..."

Her comments seemed to have lost the liveliness since returning from the trip. I wanted to call her. God, I wanted to call her and tell her to stop making a sap of herself. To tell her to stop posting about my life online. But I knew then, what I had doubted at the beach that night, that she did truly love me. No human would go this out of her way for someone she was just working for. I felt guilty for referring to her as my 'carer.' She was truly my friend. And... I felt something. Somewhere between love and absolute adoration.

How could I possibly reveal my feelings though? I had been blatantly clear on the beach - nothing would change my mind. I couldn't live this life, couldn't imagine never being able to walk or talk again. I'd been confined to the boundaries of the chair for two years, forced to watch as my friends got married and had children and got promotions. I was stuck like this.

Similarly, I couldn't imagine never waking up to see Lou making a nuisance of herself or never hearing her laugh again. I couldn't imagine never seeing her pull that face when I was teasing her and I most certainly could not imagine never kissing her again. I could still hear her words in my ear.

 _"I love you."_

It was the day of the flight to Switzerland that I called my family over.

"I need to see Louisa." I met my mother's eyes. "I need to see her now."

My mother drove us all, including Georgina who was silent for once, to the Clark residence where she practically ran to the front door.

A sad, slim looking Josephine shook her head and held up her arms at my mother. I felt the tension from inside the car.

"She's not home," my mother muttered, eyeing the house, aggravation marked on her face. My father took her hand and rubbed it.

So Louisa had told them, I realised. There was no other explanation for Mrs Clark, the kind soul she was, being anything other than grateful to my mother. I didn't judge her for it, for revealing my plans. I could imagine Louisa lying in her bedroom for days without saying a word before revealing it. She would have kept it in as long as she could. I had no doubt it consumed her.

I heard Nathan's voice in my ear from this morning when I had revealed my feelings for Lou.

"You reveal this the day before you're meant to kill yourself?" His voice was the protective voice of a brother, not of my friend. His years of kind words had been swallowed by an angry tone. "You don't get to tell her you love her and then drop dead, Will. It's not fair."

I looked at him from the corner of my eye and raised my eyebrow. I had no plans of dropping dead just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been days since we'd returned from the trip - it had been a long few days. I'd barely left my bedroom since returning. Mum had told me that the Traynor's had stopped at our house.

'Told them you weren't home,' she told me as she stroked my hair. 'You don't need to be around them right now.'

I didn't bother to return the visit to find out the news on the passing of Will.

"You should go up there," Treena prompted me as we stared at the Granta House on a walk with Thomas. "I'll wait here for you."

I felt hollow, drained and tired. "What's the point?" I murmured to my sister who wrapped an arm around me.

I had cried for days after returning home. Days spent in my room, bawling into my pillow until my chest hurt from sobbing. I sobbed until my lips blistered, nose peeled and eyes that were red enough to make my mother call the doctor. I was not simply crying over a broken heart, I was mourning. I was mourning the man I loved who was going to die. Who was dead. I'd accepted it.

"You should go."

"Why Treena? To see where he spent his last days? To remember that I abandoned him when he wanted me there with him? To be reminded that despite telling him I loved him, he killed himself? You know what he said Treen. He said I wasn't enough."

Treena was silent for a moment, watching her son play and mess around on the ground. "I think it'd do you good, Lou."

I'm not sure what I expected when I started walking towards the house. To be honest, I'm not even sure when I became consciously aware I _was_ walking towards the house. But somehow I ended up at the door to the annexe and without even thinking about it, opened the door as I had hundreds of times before. I almost found myself calling out "I'm home" as I had when I lived in the spare room.

I followed the corridor to the living room and practically fell over when I saw that Will was sitting in his chair, staring out the window as he had all those times before. I scrutinised him from my position by the door, noticed the deep set bags beneath his eyes and the pastiness of his complexion. Was he sick? And why was he by himself? I looked around for Nathan or a Traynor but the annexe was empty, leaving Will by himself.

I knocked on the door slowly, hesitantly, and far too quickly Will turned around to face me. His lifeless face brightened, I thought, but I may have been trying to make myself feel better.

"Clark," he breathed my name. "It's you..." I wanted to leave, almost as quickly as I had come.

I didn't let my expression give me away, didn't let the fluttering of my heart become apparent or how not going to move the hair from his eyes may have actually been killing me. I moved into the familiar room and realised with a start, that boxes sat in the corner. They'd been packing up and the body wasn't even cold yet.

"You look..." Will stared at me with an intensity I had missed. "Absolutely terrible." He laughed. I noticed the unfamiliar lines on his face from sleepless, perhaps painful nights. I felt myself wondering if Nathan was slacking as the doom day drew near. I felt my eyes moisten.

"You look pretty terrible too," I answered, my voice hoarse, the lump in my throat threatening to make my voice crack.

"I have... I'm so... And you..." Will stuttered on his words for perhaps the first time since I had met him. "I've missed you terribly Clark."

I hesitated, trying to read those tired blue eyes of his. His voice was apologetic and gentle, unlike our sarcastic conversations that I had loved for so long. I decided against saying I'd missed him, not allowing myself to believe I hadn't been anything other than okay without him.

"Why are you alone?"

Will looked disappointed for a moment before slowly lifting his gaze again. "Nathan comes for meals and when I need him."

I wanted to smirk but Will's expression looked so hideously sad that I felt myself beginning to reach for his hand, just a metre or so away from me. I stopped myself and watched Will's eyes follow my hand as it dropped to my side.

I felt guilty, for robbing Will of a carer. But I suppose he had no need for a suicide watcher anymore with his date just... I frowned to myself, unsure of the date. I hadn't really paid attention since I'd had my meltdown. I supposed it must be a couple of days away if he was still here.

"Sorry," I murmured, not sure if I was apologising for Nathan or my presence missing from his life in his last few days.

"It's been hell around here," he laughed half heartedly. "Left to my own devices. Almost got to the point of calling you."

"You could have."

His face softened and I saw his fingers reach for me slightly. "I thought I'd seen you for the last time Clark."

I finally gave into the need and took his hand, threading my fingers through his with a familiar bitter-sweetness. Will met my eyes, his face pulled in unfamiliar lines of uncertainty and sadness. I had never seen Will without the lack of confidence he always had, the sense of entitlement. Now he was just... just Will.

"Come back," I heard him murmur and without giving permission to, I hiccuped a little as I began to cry. I realised this too late and started to pull away to hide my face. Will's gentle grip tightened what it could and he tugged a little, trying to pull me to him. I obeyed without a second thought, sitting on his lap as sobs began to escape. I lay my head in the crook of his neck, smelling in the sweet aroma that was Will Traynor. I looked up with a start to see tears leaking from his eyes too. I moved to wipe them, letting my hands rest on his face a little longer. I was going to miss this face. The set of his jawline, the gentle layer of freckles, the blue of his eyes.

We were so close, a breath away from our lips touching. I practically jumped off Will's lap.

"I need to go. I shouldn't have come, I-I'm sorry..."

"Clark."

"No, really Will, I can't do this to myself or to you-"

"Lou, do you know the date?"

"You get the luxury of forgetting about me but I have to live with you in my memory forever and I can't-"

"Louisa, I'm still here."

My head shot up. "What?"

"I cancelled my appointment Clark," he spoke slowly, his lips spreading into an uncertain smile. "I'm not going."

I felt my jaw drop and my knees give way. My hands were shaking and my lip trembling but I kept staring at him. "I- I- I. You- you're not going?"

"I'm not going. Will you stop being so dramatic and stand up?" Old Will was back in his chastising manner. I practically bolted to his side and threw my arms around his shoulders. He laughed into my shoulder, an unfamiliar delight that made me cry.

"I love you," I murmured in his ear as his laughter quietened. I pulled away to see his expression and he smiled slowly.

"I love you too." And somehow the situation had become a puzzle that I had abandoned because I couldn't find the missing piece and yet here I was with my finished puzzle. He was here - alive and he loved me. I wanted to sob in happiness but as for right now, I settled for kissing him and pulling myself to him as he kissed me back.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi guys, thanks for reading my story! It's a bit angsty, maybe have some tissues ready, I don't know. Enjoy and please review. x**

Life was cruel.

It had some twisted sense of humour where it gave you months of bliss. Months of utter happiness and hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be forever. There would be no more bad days. And then in a matter of minutes, it laughed in your face and sent you years worth of pain and fear.

I was very happy with Will. He had stayed with me, cancelling his appointment at Dignitas. I had moved back into the annexe and, perhaps against Mrs Traynor's will, had taken up the other half of Will's bed permanently. I offered to pay rent or help with the shopping but Mrs Traynor, the tired old sod she was, had smiled at me for the first time since I'd started working for her.

"No," she'd said as she let her hand rest on my shoulder. "You've done enough."

Mrs Traynor still paid me to look after Will which made me feel a little strange. I would happily look after Will for free - most of the 'looking after' was just us bickering as I made a mess of things anyway. I had told her so.

"Yes," she had cocked her head to the side, her silvered brown braid falling over her shoulder. She had visibly physically improved since the stress of her son's death looming had been lifted off of her shoulders. Her complexion was clear, her eyes wide and sparkly again. She looked at least ten years younger than her fifty-five years. Perhaps another reason for her improvement was the lack of wedding band around her finger - she had separated from Mr Traynor. It was a civil breakup - they lived in the same house, too grateful to see their son happy to move out. They kept their accounts joined. Really, the only thing that changed was that they no longer kissed each other's cheeks when they saw each other. Mr Traynor had begun bringing the red-headed woman home and I'd seen an extremely attractive man leaving the Granta House more than once. Mrs Traynor was a happy woman. "But nobody seems to be able to make him as happy as you do."

So life went on.

I got paid to spend time with Will. He had less and less bad days and those that were bad, he allowed himself to be comforted. A particularly bad day had been around two months since the trip. He'd been bed bound, blinded by pain through his body. I still wince when I think of his face that day, so pale and gaunt. His blue eyes were clouded with silent pain. He couldn't sleep through the pain, could barely eat without feeling nauseous.

"Clark," he had mumbled from his upright position in his bed. "Lie with me, won't you?"

It was one of the first 'bad days' that Will hadn't sent me out of the room to suffer in silence. It was progress in it's simplest form.

I'd smiled and climbed into the bed beside him, pulling the blanket to both of our chins. He turned his head to face me.

"I'm sorry," I had told him, guilt filling me. I was the reason he was alive today, let alone in pain.

"You're worth it," he had smiled slightly, his face tight with pain. I pulled his hand to my chest and kissed his knuckles, snuggling up closer to him so that our bodies touched. He exhaled and tilted his head so that it rested on mine, shutting his eyes. I like to think I saw his face relax a little.

The good days were brilliant. We went on adventures - Will's face when I told him I was taking him sky diving was a face I'll never forget. I got a photograph of him on the way down - his eyes were full of wonder and excitement, his smile bright. I printed the photo and put it in one of the photo frames I'd salvaged so long ago and replaced the photos that once held a different Will. He lit up when he saw.

"I want more," he told me. "I want more with you and Nathan."

Will laughed more and he smiled more and in general, our little lifestyle improved day to day. We invested in spicing up the annexe so that it wasn't so dreary. I picked flowers from the garden every day and Will bought brighter coloured furniture to replace blacks, browns and neutrals of the annexe. In a matter of weeks, no part of our home was lacking in colour. I think Mrs Traynor was happy with that - she stepped into the annexe and saw her freshly shaven son amongst colour and flowers and I think she was happier.

"You've done a wonderful job," she told me with a sense of wonder. Will progressed quickly in his physio - with the encouragement of Nathan and myself, he began to grip items better and as the months went on, was able to lift his hand to grab objects on his own. It made a world of difference for Will who could now, almost without shaking at all, grab his food or beaker. There was no improvement in his legs or spine but that was to be expected - Will told me he was just happy to be able to use his hands again. Slowly, he learnt to write again. He practised for hours a day, his scrawl an incomprehensible mess for days until after a couple of weeks, he handed me a letter.

" _Dear Clark,_

 _I love you._

 _Yours, Will."_

I beamed at him, kissing him. With regained strength in his hands, Will and I attempted to cook dinner together one night. I didn't trust Will with a knife to cut potatoes up but he peeled them while I prepped a roast chicken. We laughed and we chatted, bickering about where we would go for our next holiday.

"Australia," he instructed confidently.

"Australia? Why not Italy? Or France?"

Will shook his head. "Australia. Five weeks from today. Deal?"

I couldn't resist the confident smile and offered him my hand which he shook, grinning from ear to ear. "Deal."

I had never seen so much confidence and happiness radiate from Will. Just being able to use his hands again was something he was beyond grateful for. When we went to bed one night, we faced each other and he reached his hand slightly, slow and unsteady, still limited in his use of his arm. But soon, his hand was on my cheek and he was tracing my jaw line, my hair line, my lips. I pulled myself closer and we kissed until we didn't, and we stared at each other for a minute, an unanswered question. Will nodded slowly and I removed our clothes and that night, Will and I made love. It wasn't like it had been with Patrick - Patrick wanted to impress and used his athleticism in doing so. Will could do no such thing - his hands were wandering and gentle but his lips were passionate and strong against mine. Things... were not as confusing or awkward as they should have been. In fact, things were wonderful.

As I sunk into my pillow, I sighed. This must be what true love feels like. I had never felt this way before - these complete satisfaction with life. We were happy - we were okay.

Together, Will and I organised our holiday. He laughed when I questioned the integrity of the big mango.

"The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra," I repeated Will's words, looking at the programs. "They're playing Tchaikovsky 6 and Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto 2."

"Oh, what a program!" Will had exclaimed surprisingly. I raised an eyebrow in his direction, amused by his display of adoration for the Russian composers. Our holiday came together perfectly - two weeks spent by the beach side (although Will refused high-populated beaches like Bondi, opting for more private beaches once the large-wheeled wheelchair had been confirmed.) The weeks seemed to drag by as we grew more excited.

And just as he had last time, Will grew sick.

They told me that it was pneumonia again. Will looked terrible, a contrast to the Will I'd seen yesterday. There had been no signs. No coughing, no pain, no fatigue. He had just been Will.

And now he was unconscious on the bed. Nathan sat beside me outside the hospital room, a hand on my knee as I finished my fourth cup of coffee. Nathan had been more and more absent from our lives as I took on Will's routines. Nathan came every now and then to check in but he had happily handed over the reigns once he was sure I wouldn't kill Will.

It was 3 am and it was raining - nothing unusual for this time of year but somehow felt fitting to the situation. My chest felt heavy, my nose snotty from the abundance of crying I'd done in the last few hours. We had been here since around 5pm where Will had told me "don't freak out but I think you need to take me to the hospital." I had practically dropped the glass of water I'd been holding.

"Are you alright? Where does it hurt? Will, what's wrong?" But Will remained silent, his face pulled into tense lines, a slight green complexion.

"Please, Clark." I didn't get too worked up until well into the night. Will had seemed fine, a little tired, but fine. I waited outside the room to give Will some privacy with the doctor, looking in every now and then. I waited for an answer from the doctor who left the room, only to return with a bucket. It was then I saw Will vomit painfully. I rushed in to take the place of the doctor holding the bucket, completely overwhelmed by the sudden spike in Will's health. I swallowed the sudden need to vomit too when I saw that the vomit was mixed with blood. It took around an hour to settle Will. He looked miserable and tired and completely fed up. I helped him to lie down, puffing up the pillows behind him. He didn't meet my eyes.

I left the room as the doctor spoke to Nathan, only catching the end of the conversation.

"It's not looking good."

I had known it was pneumonia the minute I had seen him. That look that had haunted my all of those months ago in Will's last round of pneumonia - the look of utter distance, of giving up, it was ever so vivid in his eyes today. Somewhere around 8pm, Will fell asleep and somewhere around 1am, the doctors told us that he had hours left.

To this day, I feel like I'm responsible. Like I should have noticed that he didn't kiss me goodnight the night before or that he didn't ask for sugar in his coffee today. Maybe if I hadn't pushed that aside, I could have saved him.

Isn't it ironic that now that Will no longer wanted to end his life, he didn't have a choice? I shared the irony with Nathan through sobs - he didn't find it as funny of a joke as I thought it'd be. I entered Will's room, watching my true love sleep. His breathing was shallow and fast and his skin had goosebumps despite the several blankets that laid on him. His face was whiter than I'd ever seen it, his lips tinted blue. He didn't stir when I entered - they told me he wouldn't wake up.

I didn't get to say a last goodbye to Will or tell him that I loved him. But I got to hold his hand until his last final, painful breath.

I got an extra five months with Will. Five months which were spent with the love of my life. It seemed sad to me now, that I didn't get a full year with Will. Mum says that the reason we fell in love so quickly - so passionately, is because we knew, somewhere deep in our stomachs, that we had a deadline.

Life is so cruel.


End file.
